Holiday passes to next level
Andrew Soukup
Associate Sports Editor
EAST RUTHERFORD, N.J.
Carlyle Holiday knew he made a mistake as soon as he let go of the ball.
As a Maryland defender wrapped his arms around Notre Dame's quarterback midway through the fourth quarter, Holiday flung a submarine pitch, weakly floating the ball a few feet short of the line of scrimmage.
The Irish got a ten-yard penalty for intentional grounding. Holiday got a tongue-lashing for unintentional brain freeze.
He didn't have to wait for his next jaunt to the Irish sideline to know he'd used his reflexes and not his head. Tyrone Willingham left his spot on the 50-yard line to personally tell Holiday he screwed up. Offensive coordinator Bill Diedrick got on the phone after the drive ended to chew Holiday out.
"I've never been yelled at so much in my entire life," Holiday said. "Things like that just happen, but I can't let it happen again. That's a kindergarten mistake right there."
In that instant, Holiday became the playground quarterback who relied on reaction and not reason. The rest of the game, he played with such precision few could tell it was his first game directing a pro-style attack. Brimming with confidence, the gunslinger delivered bullets with an uncanny accuracy he rarely showed last season.
Last year, Holiday threw more than 17 passes twice. Saturday, he completed 17 passes. Eight different recievers caught passes. And in the first 15 minutes of Notre Dame's 22-0 win against Maryland Saturday, Holiday passed for more yards than he did the final two games of last season.
In Notre Dame's 22-0 victory over Maryland, Holiday and the Irish proved everything. They also proved nothing.
Holiday directed an offense that managed to move the ball effectively – except in the red zone. He showed he could cycle through receivers and complete tough passes – against a bad secondary. He showed he could set up a scoring drives – as long as said scoring drives ended in Nicholas Setta field goals.
A kicker and a defensive back scored more points than the entire Irish offense.
Notre Dame beat a poorly prepared football team with a bad defense and an even worse offense, and the margin of victory should have been much greater. For all its progress, Notre Dame's offense stopped itself from scoring touchdowns.
False starts, delay of game penalties, a porous offensive line, a sub-par running game – all things coaches will be harping on come team meetings this week.
Still, Holiday's assertiveness under center eased the concerns of worried fans who questioned his passing ability.
Holiday said he wasn't out to prove anything against Maryland. Bill Clinton said he never had sexual relations with that woman. Both were blatant lies.
Though he didn't say it, Holiday wanted desperately to erase the terrific display of inadequacy he exhibited for Willingham the last time the two stood on a field together. The memory of 1-for-16 against Stanford still lingered in Holiday's mind, the lowest point in a low season.
Saturday, Holiday flashed signs that he is a changed quarterback running a changed offense. With the poise of a veteran in a Steve Spurrier offense, Holiday tucked himself away in the pocket and stayed there.
He rarely moved around, he rarely scrambled. And when he did, he ran for big yards, exhibiting the athletic ability that made him Notre Dame's first and only option on offense last year.
Nowhere was the change in offensive philosophy more evident than Notre Dame's first offensive play from scrimmage, when Holiday three-step-dropped and fired a screen to Omar Jenkins. The play only gained seven yards, but at least Julius Jones wasn't stuffed going up in the middle.
Even Willingham, when asked to describe the differences in offenses, laughed before curtly responding, "Night. Day."
If the Irish hope to return to greatness, Holiday took the first step Saturday. He realized quarterbacks win games with noggins, not limbs.
After the game, Holiday laughed about his boneheaded underhand pass. It was a moment of happiness in a whirlwind of questions hurled at him by armchair quarterbacks.
As Holiday answered question after question, one of his teammates walked by and muttered, "Look at Carlyle, backed against the wall."
Finally, he took his first step away from it.
The views of this column are those of the author and are not necessarily those of The Observer. Contact Andrew Soukup at asoukup@nd.edu.
All Sports Stories for Monday, September 2, 2002
